Persistere
by TheLovelessRose
Summary: Harry had never run from what was expected from him, and when he had finally finished he was left with nothing to show for his victory other than death. Leaving the war-burned England behind, he must now pick up the pieces of his life. And maybe find a family that was just as broken as he was. Thats okay though: broken pieces can still be put together. SkyArcobaleno!Harry All/Harry


Summary: Harry had never run from what was expected from him, and when he had finally completed his goal he was left with nothing to show for his victory other than death. Leaving the war-burned England behind, he must now pick up the pieces of his life. And maybe, just maybe, find a family that was just as broken as he was. Thats okay though: broken pieces can still be put together.

A Harry Potter Katekyo Hitman Reborn Crossover

Warnings: SkyArcobaleno!Harry, AllAcrobaleno/Harry (slash/Het), Manipulate!Dumbledore, Blood, Gore, Mental instability, Sky Attraction, Strong!Harry, Grey!Harry, spelling/grammar issues i'm sure

-x-

Harry's life had never been easy.

He has always tried to joke about this fact, laughing with memories of fear and blood flashing in his eyes. It was a conversation that came up many times among those he knew; the plot twists, life threatening stunts, and mind breaking truths. And joke they did, something he felt was needed if he was ever to deal with all that had happened to him over the years. But when he had sat by the table with people surrounding him and tales of victory and loss on their tongues, he felt it settle in- the numbness. Faces blurred and became meaningless to him and treasured people had turned into something he dismissed. This feeling only grew stronger by the end of the war until the connection between him and those in wizarding England became a distant memory. The disconnect between him and what he had prioritized before the war was an odd feeling, he decided, but nothing he had never experienced- this feeling of wrongness.

He could remember when it had started or at the very least when he had realized that it had started to fester within himself. Hermione had taken to asking him at least five times a day about Sirus' death, concern and something similar to disbelief in her eyes. He didn't blame her honestly, and tried his best to assure her he was fine. She was always quiet after his assurances- lips pressed together and fingers clenched before leaving it be until her next chosen inquisition. And he was fine…maybe. He wasn't _not_ fine at least. In fact, ever since he left the Headmaster's office one week ago he simply felt nothing. Slightly dazed, eyes and mind unfocused, and feeling as if he was mechanically moving. He had yet to react to Malfoy or Snape's taunts and sneers respectively, and sometimes he caught the small glances they gave him when he simply stared at them with blank eyes and walked away. A mixture of disbelief, anger, and unease; an unsettling combination on the faces of those that hated him in various amounts, yet he couldn't find it in himself to truly care.

He knew this wasn't healthy- this feeling. But he also knew he needed time, and that was never something he had ever received. His life in the wizarding world had always been fast paced; all of the calamities coming fast and hard and with no time to process or ponder. The events that lead to his godfathers death were blurred, hazey and fragmented at best but he remembered the emotions all the same

When he had been called to the headmasters office after the accident (Because that's what it was wasn't it? An _accident_?), he wasn't sure what to expect. It wasn't the soft words and hidden accusations he had received that was for sure. He hasn't realized it at first as he stared into the eyes of Dumbledore before he processed what was being told to him in. He was… blaming him. Berating him with it disguised as disappointment; telling him in no hidden terms that he was at fault. It was like ice water had been poured on him when he realized this: listening to the words of his headmaster, his aged blue eyes shining with his disappointment. As if he hadn't help cultivate and utilize these odd visions he got. As if he hadn't encouraged every reckless and unwise endeavor Harry had embarked on in his life in the magical world. As if he had ever offered some guidance on this world and his place in it. As if-

He had stiffened, eyes unfocused as he watched The Headmaster's lips move but heard nothing. He had felt it then, this blazing anger in the pit of his stomach- burning its way up its his throat and making his eyes burn. He felt his body pulse as magic burned and a hint of _something else_ in his veins and he clenched his fists, an odd ringing in his ears. He realized in a detached sort of way that he had been holding his breath and let it out in a loud release without really feeling the action. it took him a moment to understand that the room was quiet, and he turned his gaze towards the older man. He wasn't talking, just looking at him with an odd look in his eyes. The blue eyes lowered to his lap, and he jumped a little when he processed what it was he was looking at. His hands were clenched so tight his nails had cut his palms, drops of blood standing starkly on his pale skin.

Oh.

He breathed, unclenching his hands and looking up at Dumbledore. It almost look as if he was waiting for something, and it was only a moment after that thought that he realized the thick feeling in the air. A sharp breathe later and the heaviness got the slightest bit lighter, his eyes slightly unfocused as he tried desperately to control his rampant magic. It was screaming, anger coursing through his veins at what was being said, at what this had lead to, at the lack of help, at being so lost, at this feeling of wrongwrongwrongwrongwrong

"Are you alright, my boy?"

His breath hitched at the words, eyes narrowing on his crimson streaked palms. Pressing them onto the arm rests, he stood, and for a moment he thought he would sway before he caught himself and stood straight.

"Harry?"

Harry heard him, but it felt as if he was underwater and Dumbledore was speaking to him on the surface. The question echoed in his head, sounding far away as he stared at the plush looking red carpet. He looked at the man from under his fringe and watch the older mans features change into something resembling confusion. He turned, feet bringing him to the door, and left.

The headmaster didn't call him back.

When he had sat on his bed after leaving, eyes dull and words echoing in his head, he had processed he had left the headmaster but found himself not caring in the slightest. Ever since he had been in a slight daze, thoughts constantly buzzing but body moving mechanically. Ron had taken to shooting him annoyed looks when he thought he wasn't looking, but he had little time to deal with the redhead. Dumbledore's words were all he could think about, and his soul felt chilled at the thought of those words.

Life continued, even if that event made him realize many things.

More visions would come as the years passed, and more death, and more blood, and more painful truths as well. Dumbledore was dead, as was Snape, as was countless others, but as he stood among the carnage that was the final war, body bruised and broken, did he recognize the feeling seeping into his soul. He was alive; however unlikely, and his life was in tatters. He had followed his role until the end, let himself be led, and realized in the end he was simply a lamb being led to his slaughter. That realization had led to nothing; he was far too deep into this role that he couldn't piece where he began and it ended.

Dumbledore was always so good at writing Harry's story.

He was gone. Voldemort was gone. It had taken him everything to kill him, but he had did it. What he wasn't sure about now though, was what to do. He felt lost, his ears ringing as he processed what had happened this day. He had won, Voldemort had lost and-

He was alive.

His hands were shaking now, he realized distantly. What was he supposed to do now? He was supposed to die- thats what was planned! He was the last piece, the last Horcrux, the final sacrifice. He had never truly had a future, he knew that, planned on it, and now that the reality was setting in he realized he had no idea what to do now.

What happened next?

He could feel his breathing speed up at the thought of piecing together his life.

Merlin he was so tired.

Tired of fighting, of being manipulated, of resolving a war that was so much larger than himself. He had done it with his head head high, eyes resolute and words firm, but he had thought he knew what the outcome was. Had comes to terms with it, even at peace with it you may say.

Jumping as a hand landed on his shoulder he moved fast, wand meeting the neck of whoever had touched him only to met with wide blue eyes. He stilled and a moment of silence hung in the air before Harry could find himself unclenching his muscles. He tried to arrange his face into one of vague apology, but with a grimace realized he hadn't succeeded when Neville gave him a look.

"Sorry mate." He murmured as he let his hands fall to his waist. This war had beaten reflexes into Harry that had saved his life many times, but had left him paranoid and jumpy.

"Don't" Neville said, eyes understanding. His face was dirty and his shirt bloody, but he stood tall even as exhaustion could be seen in the lines around his eyes. So different than the Neville he had met so long ago, awkward words and even more unsteady actions. He had matured so much… but then again, he had as well.

"You did it." The blonde continued, blue eyes full of emotion. Harry nodded but could summon no energy into anything further, green eyes darkening as he took in the burning remains of the school that was littered with the bodies of old and young.

Yes…

He did, but at what cost?

What now?

-x-

**Preview:** _There was a moment of silence, green eyes narrowing on the figure before him before his eyes darted to the dark ones of Shacklebolt. He nodded, gesturing towards the obviously Chinese man with an expression that told him this was who he had told him of earlier. Harry's gaze turned more calculating, allowing his magic to drift slightly out of its tight coil around his core. He sensed magic within the slightly smiling man, this he had expected of Course, but..._

_His eyes widened slightly, quickly pulling in his suddenly eager magic and forcefully smoothing it within. There was something else about this man, but it wasn't necessarily bad. Actually it was quite warm, almost, and once he felt that slight tingle along his spine he had quickly pushed himself back. His magic felt almost irritated, as if it wanted to curl around the other, but he had enough practice with controlling his magic now that he was able to sooth it within moments. He saw the others smile falter, and he narrowed his eyes._

_Who was this man?_

_-x-_

Thank you for reading!

I will update within the week... read, review (so i can know to continue or not hah), or not! xoxo


End file.
